


How It's Supposed To Be

by Recourse



Series: Shades of Shame [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Sex, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, compulsory heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: Kate's marriage is in shambles. She's done everything a good Christian woman is supposed to, and yet it's still falling apart around her.After yet another fight about the same subject, she and her husband are separate for the night. In a hotel bar, she meets her old high school bully, and things only get worse from there.





	How It's Supposed To Be

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Kate’s been asking herself that question for years. She asked it the first time she kissed him, when all it felt was wet and unpleasant. She asked it when he declared her love for her, when he described the way he felt when he was around her, and she couldn’t say the same. She asked it on her wedding night, when it hurt.

She asks herself the same question now, sitting in an empty house, staring down at her hands. He sat her down here after she just admitted it, after she finally said it out loud, during another of their arguments about this one subject, always the same one.

_I don’t like sex._

She didn’t think it would shock him like it did. Didn’t think she’d need to answer his follow-up questions, _With me, or with anyone?_ Having to tell him how she felt after, dirty, used. And then it was all quiet, and he told her he’d go to his brother’s house to think this over. That he didn’t know. That he didn’t want to hurt her anymore.

Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Women aren’t supposed to like it. It’s a duty. Part of marriage. Something precious to be taken from you only by those you’ve given yourself to under God’s watch. Men are the ones who want these things. That’s how it is.

He left a half-hour ago, and she’s still sitting here. In the house they made together, surrounded by photos of them as a couple, five years of nesting here. Kate’s suffocating. Paralyzed, lungs seizing. It’s all going to fall apart, and she can’t understand _why._

She’s still in her work clothes. He started to touch her, kiss her, as soon as she came home, and she’d frozen. She didn’t want it. She never wants it. She shoots up and takes her purse from the kitchen table, heading out the front door quickly, locking it behind her. She breathes easier out here in the open air. Fog clouds puff out of her face as she shivers in place. Now what? She can’t just stay out here all night. But nor can she sleep in their marital bed, alone.

The hotel his parents stayed at last year. That’ll do. It’s a nice place and surely they have at least one room available, somewhere she can go and not be reminded of all the things that are how they are supposed to be, and yet aren’t.

She barely thinks as she drives there, as she checks in and pays. It’s something she’s done plenty of times, usually with him napping in the car outside after a long drive. Now she’s alone.

She remembers where they met up with his parents. The hotel bar.

God, that sounds good right now.

It was the only way she got herself through it. Sharing a bottle of wine with him always had that unspoken caveat. It was enough. Sometimes she’d fall asleep during, and it always felt like a blessing.

Maybe this can be a blessing. Enough wine in her and she can go up to her room and fall into oblivion and not have to think about everything.

She doesn’t take note of the other patrons at the bar, just slides into the first stool and orders a glass of wine. She stares into the red, as though there are answers in there.

Someone sits next to her. She tries to ignore them, hoping it’s not a man, _please_ not a man, she doesn’t want to be hit on tonight or ever again. She glances towards them. Blonde hair. Strong cheekbones. A button nose. A slim-fit leather jacket and a tight skirt.

It’s not a man.

“Kate?” she asks, leaning down near the bar’s surface to get a proper look at her face. “Kate Marsh, is that you?”

Jesus Christ. She needs to down this drink. She sniffs, holds her head up, and turns towards her. Manners, Kate.

“Victoria?” she replies in kind.

“Holy shit, it _is_ you!” Victoria shouts, _very_ loud in this small space, and Kate’s looking at her and realizing she must be drunk already. There’s a flattering red tinge in her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since…” And then her mouth suddenly clamps shut. She must be remembering. Like Kate’s been remembering this whole time.

A party. A drug. A video taken and posted online. A week of Hell. Kate tying a belt around her neck, suspending herself from the sprinkler pipe in her dorm room. It broke under her weight, though she’d been starving herself.

Victoria’s fault.

Kate left Blackwell, after that. Slinked back home after her experiment with independence. No one ever caught who did it.

She tries not to think of that day. She’d known Victoria for so brief a time.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Victoria mutters. “I shouldn’t have…”

Kate sighs, taking a long sip of her drink. “It’s all right,” she says, though she doesn’t feel it. Why here? Why now?

“No, no it’s fucking not, fuck. Hey, bartender. Shot of Jack.”

Kate raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t move. At least something is happening. Something that isn’t the collapse of her marriage.

As Victoria takes her drink and downs it instantly, she turns back to Kate. “I never said I was sorry,” she says, putting a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I am. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It...it was a long time ago,” Kate murmurs.

“No, fuck that. The day after you left I cried myself to sleep, it was all my fault and I know it was, don’t _tell_ me it wasn’t, Nathan tried to tell me that but he was so goddamn full of it.” Victoria’s shaking Kate by the shoulder at this point. “I wanna say I’m sorry, okay? I wanna...I dunno, fuck. Everything else in my life is garbage right now so I might as well try to at least...at least tell you.” She pulls away, suddenly looking awkward, staring at the bar. She puts a hand to her forehead.

It does feel nice. To know that Victoria didn’t walk away from that year feeling like Kate had deserved it. Everyone else thought she did, or that’s what it felt like. She’d fallen in line, after that. Did what she was supposed to do. Only now it’s all wrong.

She wonders if the same thing has happened to Victoria, and that’s why they’re here now.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” she says softly. “But thank you.”

“God, you’re still Kate Marsh, all right. You never deserved any of the shit you got at Blackwell. Fuck.” Victoria thumps her forehead against the bar. “Well,” she mumbles into the wood, “At least I finally said it.”

“Why are you here, exactly?” Kate asks. “You...didn’t know I was here.” She couldn’t. Kate didn’t even know she would be here tonight.

“Oh, my marriage is a huge shitshow,” Victoria says, flashing the ring on her left hand at Kate.

Kate almost laughs. It would happen this way, wouldn’t it? “...mine too,” she admits softly.

“Really? Huh. Figured you’d have the perfect little family life by now.” Victoria hiccups.

This time, Kate does laugh. She can’t help it. This whole night is so surreal and dark, maybe she should find it funny. “Me too,” she says, sighing. “Me too.”

“Do you...wanna talk about it?”

Kate does. God, she does. She can’t tell anyone about this, this issue. The people she knows, the women she talks to at Church, they’re all like her, all Godly. No one talks about this kind of thing. But Victoria…

“Not here,” Kate says, glancing around even though she doubts she’d know anyone at this bar. Well, anyone _else._ Perhaps tonight’s not the night to be making assumptions. “I…” Is she really considering this? Going off alone with the worst of her childhood bullies just so someone will listen to her?

“Where, then? Because, like, I am...absurdly interested right now, and I’ve got nothing else to do and I hate being alone.” Victoria looks into Kate’s eyes.

“M-my room? There should be a mini-bar…”

“I’ll pay for whatever we take. I owe you that much, right?”

Kate winces, but...Hell. She’ll take it. She’ll take anything at this point to talk to someone and maybe not feel judged. Victoria didn’t even make fun of her, or tell her it must be her fault, just commiserated. That’s something. “Okay,” she says, slipping her card to the bartender. “God, I can’t believe you’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

“I need to vent too. Jesus, if I say anything against him it’d be a whole fuckin’ thing,” Victoria laments.

As soon as their tabs are paid, Kate leads Victoria to the room she paid for, silent on the way up. Victoria kicks off her heels, stretching herself across the bed, resting her back against the headboard as Kate roots in the mini-fridge. Kate shakes as she draws out a bottle of wine, the twin glasses stored beside it. There’s an association here, she knows there is, but she won’t name it to herself.

She takes off her own shoes and sits on the opposite side of the bed, setting her glass and the bottle down on the nightstand. Victoria takes a long drink of her own before she speaks.

“So...honestly, Kate, just how are you? In general? Past couple years?” she asks, turning to look at her. Kate keeps her gaze forward. Victoria’s painted her toenails pink. It’s a cute color.

“I…” Kate feels warm. God, they’re so close to each other. This is definitely not a queen bed. She was lied to. She tries again. “I’ve been all right, I guess. After I went back home, I...I did fine. I went to college and grad school. I’m actually teaching at my church’s pre-school.”

“And your marriage is a shitshow,” Victoria prods.

“It’s not all bad,” Kate says reflexively. “He’s...he’s a very good husband. We only fight about…” She gulps. “One thing.”

“Pfft, only one? Shit, girl, that’s lucky,” Victoria says, taking a swig of wine. “My man’s a huge prick. We fight about everything because his bitchy little ass wants everything his way. Especially sex.” Victoria makes a face. “God, I hate fucking him.”

There’s something so refreshing about hearing this talk out in the open, not hidden behind code words and implications. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the wine, but Kate’s relaxing further against her pillows.

“I married the prick because I thought I was supposed to, and he had connections and money and...whatever.” Victoria huffs. “So what’s eating you enough to be drinking? I’m here for a showing, officially, but honestly I’m just hoping I can keep coming up with reasons not to be near him.”

“We got in a fight about sex again,” Kate mumbles. It feels weird for that word to even leave her mouth, still. It felt wrong to say it during the fight itself.

“Oh, shit.” Victoria sits up a little more and drains her glass of wine. She hands it to Kate, who downs the rest of her own before filling both up again. “You, uh, mind if I ask what kinda fight?”

Kate takes another sip. Her tongue feels looser in her mouth. “I don’t like it.”

“Sex? Like, in general?”

“Y-yeah.” Kate sniffs. “I guess he thought I did, or, or that I’m supposed to.”

“I mean, you are supposed to,” Victoria says with an eyebrow raise.

“How?” Kate blurts out. “There’s nothing — I don’t — I don’t get it! I, I think about it sometimes, and I just can’t figure it out, I think men just, they have different brains so it doesn’t seem as gross to them or something.”

Victoria takes a swig of her wine. “I mean...I agree with you. Sort of, anyway. But I think we’re the weird ones. My friends talk about this shit sometimes and I just shut up because I don’t relate, like, at all. God I drink so much whenever they start talking about it.” Victoria giggles to herself.

“It’s, it’s not just that. I guess it’s more than one thing but it always feels like it’s just sex,” Kate babbles, her head light and fuzzy and it feels good to talk about this and be heard. “I don’t like kissing him, not the way he does. He wants to kiss for hours sometimes and I just sort of let him but I get so bored, and...He always wants that kind of thing from me. And I just wish we could be husband and wife, and have a family, but I didn’t have to do any of that with him. We’d just be friends. We were good friends.”

“Oh, Kate,” Victoria says, and she actually sounds concerned. It’s a strange note to hear in her voice. Softer than the complaining Kate had heard before, and nothing like when she was spitting barbs at Kate at Blackwell. “I mean...I get that, too. There were some times it felt good, but I was always drunk, and sometimes I just think I liked the attention.”

“I don’t understand why anyone likes it,” Kate says. She takes another sip of wine. Her glass is almost empty again. The bottle will be gone the next time they refill. “Why...why would touching a man’s lips be good? They’re just…”

“Just what?” Victoria asks.

Kate turns toward her, studying her face. Her breath is caught in her throat. “I mean, look at yours,” she murmurs, putting a hand to Victoria’s cheek, tracing the soft lines with her thumb. Victoria takes in a sharp breath, tensing under her touch, closing her eyes. She’s never said this aloud. To anyone. It always seemed obvious, why would she need to say it? And yet, she does. “They’re such a nice shape. They look...softer, and, and lipstick looks nice, there’s no hair around them…” The red staining from the wine looks nice too. Victoria really is beautiful. Her skin is smooth and wonderful against Kate’s fingers. She doesn’t want to take her hand off, now that it’s there.

Kate thinks of what she wants to say next, what she wants to confess, what she never has, even in the booth. She should be afraid of it, because she has been for so long, and yet, Victoria feels the same as her, doesn’t she? It’s strange to share this with her. Maybe they were more alike than she could’ve guessed before.

She draws back, drains the rest of her wine, pours herself another glass. Victoria silently hands her empty glass to Kate as well, and the two of them share a brief quiet, both fidgeting nervously.

“I know what you mean,” Victoria says at last, her words slow and cautious. “Whenever I do a shoot with a model...women are just…” Her free hand grasps at the air.

“I wonder sometimes,” Kate slurs, stumbling over her words, “What it’d be like. To kiss another woman.”

The silence returns to the room, both of them holding their breath. Kate dares to look at Victoria again, her heart pounding in her ears. Her eyes are dark.

“I mean…” Victoria clears her throat. “I’m right here.”

Kate’s chest buzzes. She _is._ “What do you mean?” she asks. She knows what she means, but she can’t form it, can’t think of it, not really, she _won’t_.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Victoria whispers. “And I...wanna try too.”

Kate lets loose a staggered breath, turning away briefly. She takes her glass of wine and starts drinking.

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have — pretend I didn’t say anything,” Victoria stammers, “I’m just drunk and, and this is weird, it feels like we have some sort of, I don’t know—”

The glass is empty and Kate still wants it, she’s known since she touched Victoria, the curiosity is burning through her. She sets the glass down, turns back, brings herself close to Victoria’s face, and Victoria’s words are gone. Kate wraps a hand around the back of Victoria’s neck, feeling the goosebumps prick up on her skin. Victoria closes her eyes, parting her mouth just slightly, and Kate just wants her all the more.

Kissing her is so different. More different than she ever dreamed. Tingles travel like lightning from her lips down her body, her grip on Victoria’s neck tightening by reflex. She doesn’t have to think to open her mouth, not like with him, not like the time he had to ask her, and show her how to kiss. It feels so natural.

She could do this for hours.

Victoria breaks away first, only to set down her glass. Kate comes in to kiss her again and feels no objection, no fight, acceptance and reciprocation. How does Victoria’s tongue feel so good? Why doesn’t it feel like _his?_

Kate shifts so she’s straddling Victoria’s hips, and that’s amazing too. He usually took this position, would it feel like this if she did this to him? Or would it be wrong and dissonant and dirty the way it always was?

The taste of wine is overpowering. Kate’s dizzy with it, sweating under her cardigan, so she breaks away and shrugs it off. Victoria stares up at her, fingers wrapping around her waist.

“Have you thought about...other things, with women?” Victoria asks. Kate freezes. _Yes._ She has. Who doesn’t? How can anyone not?

She remembers. Finding his porn folder on the desktop. All neatly categorized, of course. He’s so fastidious. She couldn’t blame him for it, when she discovered it. She knew she wasn’t enough for him. And then, sitting there for an hour, staring at the scenes with two women together. Some weren’t right, women moaning too loudly, their nails long and bodies enhanced; she clicked away from them. Others she watched without breathing, squirming in her seat, a heat between her legs she’d not known before. Seeing the way they keened into each other’s touch, the gentle intimacy between them, the connection when one had her fingers in the other. She never watched them till the end, frightened that she’d see what it really was and want it too much, but she kept clicking on more, not finishing, until he came home and startled her out of the stupor.

She never went back in it again. She could resist taking that physical action. But her mind would wander, wondering, especially if she had the day off, or she’d drank.

Kate swallows. She can feel the familiar panic at the back of her mind, but it’s so muffled and muted right now, blocked by a haze of alcohol and desire. She plants her hands on either side of Victoria, bracing herself so she’s not directly on her, trying to think. “Kate,” Victoria groans, digging her long nails into Kate’s sides. She shifts, her legs sprawling out to either side of Kate, her skirt riding up. Kate’s eyes widen as she sees her white panties, marked with a damp spot. _She_ did that to her. Victoria Chase, the girl who made her life Hell, wants her touch so badly, she’s submitting herself to Kate. “Please,” Victoria pleads.

Kate succumbs to it, feeling the wall inside her fall. She leans down and kisses her again, her thigh slipping between Victoria’s legs. Victoria presses her center down on Kate, grinding hard, moaning into Kate’s mouth. Kate can feel her wet imprint, and _wants,_ to touch her, to feel her directly, to hear more of those incredible sounds she’s making. She takes the shoulders of Victoria’s jacket and slides it off her arms, tossing it against the wall. Each button she undoes on Victoria’s blouse sends another thrill through her. Her mouth runs dry as she gently pulls her shirt apart to show her lacy white bra, the small bumps of her hard nipples tenting the thin fabric.

Victoria lifts her chest up for a moment, letting the blouse fall off of her and reaching behind her back for her bra clasp. Kate keeps her hands on Victoria’s waist, feeling her hip bones, softly drawing circles against her skin with her thumbs. As long as she’s touching Victoria, the alarms in her head are staying at bay. She doesn’t want to stop, because then she’ll have to acknowledge what’s going on and not just follow it, and she can’t.

Victoria lets her bra fall from her chest. Her breasts are full, and beautiful, and real, right in front of Kate. They make eye contact, breathing heavily, Victoria’s eyes full of lust. Kate remembers seeing something in one of those videos, something that made her _want_ the same way she wants now, and she lunges forward and takes one of Victoria’s nipples in her mouth.

Victoria arches into her (yes, _yes_ ) and lets loose a stuttering moan. Kate explores the feeling of her, tongue circling the hard bud, lips sealing around it, then moving to the other and kissing it and sucking it and everything she’s doing results in a jump or a groan or a _yes_ from Victoria and it’s addictive, the feeling that she’s pleasing her like this, the feedback of her actions. Kate’s hand moves between Victoria’s legs almost on its own, cupping her through her soaked panties. Victoria gasps as soon as she makes contact. The sound of her voice, weak and strained, spurs Kate on.

They break apart only long enough to get Victoria’s skirt and panties off, leaving her nude beneath Kate, beautiful, perfect. Kate always preferred it when the models for life drawing were female. She wishes she could capture this image and keep it somewhere, forever, feed this addiction until it consumes her. Victoria grabs her wrist and directs her fingers, sliding two inside, guiding Kate’s thumb up to her sensitive nub. The thought _I’m inside of her_ washes over Kate like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her. She wonders if what she’s doing to Victoria feels different from what he does to Kate, in the same way kissing had felt so different, so much _more._ Rubbing her thumb in circles gets Victoria thrashing, whimpering Kate’s name over and over again, until suddenly Kate feels Victoria contract around her fingers, spasms running up her body, a long high moan filling the space and Kate’s head. Victoria falls back flat on the covers, legs dropping, and Kate understands that she can’t take any more.

“Fuck,” Victoria sobs, leaning her head to one side and putting a hand to her cheek. “H-holy shit, I didn’t think, oh my God.”

Kate hardly wants to leave her. She’s stopped moving, but she’s still inside, it feels right and good. Slowly, she draws out, fingers sticky as she travels them up Victoria’s stomach. She crawls up beside Victoria, wrapping her arms around her, and this is better too, better than when Kate and her husband do the same. She always wanted to just be as far away from him as possible after he came, but now she can’t imagine not doing this, holding Victoria and feeling her warmth and her panting breath. She swears she can feel Victoria’s heartbeat through her chest.

She starts to fade. The wine is catching up with her, and thankfully she’s not able to think about what this means, any of it, thank God. She shouldn’t have done this, she knows—

Victoria turns in her arms and kisses her hard, pushing her back against the bed. “Can I…?” she whispers, hands traveling down Kate’s chest, and though her limbs are heavy with drunkeness and her mind is swimming she simply nods because that kiss was all it took to reignite the fire between her legs, the question of if it can really feel _good_. Victoria strips her slowly, delicately, like handling spun glass. Kate’s heart swells, seeing her care, feeling valued and wanted and enjoying that sensation instead of feeling like some object for someone else’s lust. The first touch of the pad of Victoria’s finger makes her sink into the bed, her body relaxing into Victoria’s attentions.

She keeps it soft, at first, almost hesitant. Knowing she hasn’t done this before feels strange to Kate. Like Victoria should know more about this, the way she always seemed to know more about everything. Maybe it’s an act, maybe it always has been. But the slow speed is appreciated, welcomed; it gives Kate time to lean into the sensation, lets Victoria explore what really _works._ Kate’s throat vibrates with moans.

“I want to…” Victoria’s index finger slides down, further, towards Kate’s entrance. As it approaches, the nail scrapes against Kate’s lips and she hisses. “Fuck!” Vic says, drawing back and looking at her hand accusingly. “I’m cutting these first thing tomorrow.”

Victoria’s not touching Kate anymore and she _aches_ for it, so she lets out a pitiful whine. Victoria looks back to her, eyes blurred. She bites her lip. “What if…”

Victoria crawls backwards down the bed, positions her head between Kate’s legs. Her eyes flick up towards Kate again, and all Kate can do is let out a _“yes,”_ because she’s seen this before, she knows what this is and if Victoria’s tongue felt good in her _mouth_ then...

Kate stops thinking. She can’t, not anymore. Victoria’s not experienced, yet the simple sensation of her lips against Kate’s body, her tongue flicking out and licking and exploring and circling, it hardly feels like it needs much expertise because it is by default the most overwhelming stimulation Kate’s ever felt. She starts to lose hold of her breath, letting out short, high-pitched pants, the swelling sensation within her growing and growing until—

She bursts apart, or that’s what it feels like. She writhes on the bed, clenching her thighs around Victoria’s head, and someone’s screaming and it’s _her_ , how loud has she been this entire time, she hasn’t even been thinking about it, it feels too good to not scream.

It passes through her in a few seconds, her legs dropping back to the bed, hands no longer digging into the sheets. Each breath feels like work to take in. Victoria heads back up to Kate’s eye level, resting a hand on her chest. Suddenly another small wave hits Kate and she squeals, squirming with the brief return of that breaking sensation. Victoria’s staring at her now, awe on her face.

“Sit up for a second,” she murmurs, getting on her knees and circling around behind Kate. Her fingers crawl through Kate’s bun, undoing bobby pins and tingling against her scalp. It feels easy to relax into her, so easy that Kate can feel herself about to slip right into sleep. When her hair falls to her shoulders, she sighs in relief.

Victoria gets up briefly, flicking off the lights and drawing the covers over them before burying her head in Kate’s shoulder. Kate doesn’t have time to think before darkness takes her.

 

* * *

 

When she awakens, at first, she doesn’t remember why she’s here. It doesn’t make sense to wake up here. Until she turns over, and sees the naked woman sitting on the edge of the bed, and all of last night comes rushing back to her. She’s frozen. She can’t move.

Victoria turns and their eyes meet. Victoria swallows. “Hey.”

Kate can’t say anything.

Victoria turns away, looking down at her lap. “I always knew,” she says, as if to herself. “I used to daydream about something like this. Being away on business, and some woman would find me at the bar and take me away and fuck me ‘till I forgot my name and I could just...forget the rest, too. For a while. I didn’t think it’d happen like this.”

Kate did this. Kate betrayed her marriage vow and her covenant with God, and she’d never felt so free and good in her entire life. Nothing compares to what she remembers from last night.

“I was never gonna approach anyone, but then I saw you, and you started talking, and…”

“I’m not,” Kate whispers.

“What?”

“I’m, I’m not gay,” she says, sitting up and hugging herself.

“Kate—”

“I can’t be, I can’t be,” she repeats, digging her nails into her arms.

Victoria heads over to her on her hands and knees, taking Kate’s shoulders. “Kate,” she attempts again, but Kate can’t hear her.

“I can’t be this,” she says, shaking. “I can’t. I’m, I’m married, I’m supposed to be a wife and a mother and a teacher and a Christian, I can’t be like this—”

“Kate, you are,” Victoria urges her. “Look, after last night, I know I can’t go back. I’m divorcing him as soon as I get home. Do the same, for God’s sake—”

“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” Kate asks, looking her in the eye.

Victoria jumps back as though she’s been burned. Her shallow breath echoes in the silence, and Kate starts to sob into her hands.

Victoria leaves the bed. She dresses herself as Kate cries, because Kate doesn’t know what else to do, she’s so broken, she’s done so much harm in one stupid, drunken night, and everything hurts.

Victoria opens the door, holding it and staring at her shoes. Kate looks from between her fingers at her.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria chokes out. “I never meant to hurt you. Not again.”

But it wasn’t Victoria’s fault. Kate did it all. And that thought just makes her cry harder.

Victoria flees the room.

Hours later, Kate returns home.

A week later, Kate receives a friend request from Victoria’s Facebook.

A year later, she accepts it.


End file.
